Weather with you
by soulback
Summary: Bittersweet drabble about Todd finding some things and losing others. Mild Todd/Neil overtones, but can be read as a friendship fic.


**Is it just me, or do thunderstorms feature prevalently in DPS fanfic? **

**Disclaimer: Dead Poets Society. It's not mine. But **reviews are love and I can handle criticism!****

* * *

><p>When the last of the summer thunderstorms hits, late one August night, the two boys are already in the bell tower.<p>

"Are we allowed in here?" Todd asks, crossing his arms about his chest as the rumbling sound draws closer.

"No one's going to come up," reasons Neil. He pulls Todd over to the window. "_Look_ at it!"

Todd has to admit, it's hard to think about rules and regulations when the sky is breaking open before them. Then there is a crack of thunder, and it's as if the boys are actually in the clouds. They grin at each other as their faces light up in a sharp flash of lightening.

"I can see why you like it," says Todd, forgetting that he doesn't have opinions about things.

"Why is that?"

"Because it's loud and bright and full of energy. It makes people listen. Like you."

Neil's mouth twists into a lopsided grin. "If I'm a thunderstorm, what are you, oh Poet Laureate?"

"I don't know," says Todd. He turns back to the window and stares out into the storm.

"Well," Neil shrugs. "You'll find out one day."

* * *

><p>As autumn sets in, the nights grow cooler, and a persistent wind comes whistling through the gap in the window frame of the dormitory room. Outside, the trees whisper and rustle as if determined to hold onto their leaves against the breath of it.<p>

"This is me," says Todd to the darkened room. He's not even sure if Neil is awake. "I'm the wind."

"You're the wind?"

It sounds silly when Neil says it. Todd blushes. "You know, like you're the thunder, and I'm – "

"Why would you be the wind, Todd?"

"Because," Todd sighs. "I sound like I might be saying something but if you listen closely, there are no real words. It's just mumble.

"Sorry, what did you say?" asks Neil.

"My point exactly." Todd can't help smiling to himself.

"You're not the wind, Todd. Go to sleep."

* * *

><p>The next week, it rains. Instead of getting ready for a Society meeting, the boys are cooped up in the study hall, grumbling over Latin and History homework.<p>

"I've got it," says Todd, slipping into the seat next to Neil. "I'm the rain."

"The what?" Neil looks up from where he is copying Latin verbs.

"The rain, I'm the rain. I dampen people's spirits and keep them shut indoors."

"That's worse than the wind," says Neil, laughing, and returns to his work. Quietly, he adds, "You're not the rain."

* * *

><p>Mid-term exams come and go, and the first snow of winter falls lightly to the ground. Neil and Todd are out walking – at Neil's insistence – to properly celebrate this historic event.<p>

"Snow happens every year," grumbles Todd. "It's hardly historic."

Neil says nothing as he dances around Todd. Todd pulls his coat collar up, wishing he had brought a cap.

"That's it. I'm the snow," he says. "Cold and miserable."

Neil pushes him playfully. "I think you might be right."

"What?" Todd scrunches up his nose.

"You're the snow! But your reasoning is all wrong."

"Why then?" Todd dares to ask.

"Because you're – " Neil pauses, as if choosing his words carefully. "Because when snow first falls, you think, 'This is nice, but what's it for?' But the snow keeps falling, it's persistent, it builds up, and then you look again and the world is different. Everything is – different."

"What do you mean? How is it different?" Todd stops walking and stares at Neil as he carries on, oblivious.

"Besides," says Neil, calling out over his shoulder with a mischievous waggle of his eyebrows. "I like snow."

* * *

><p>When Charlie and the boys wake Todd <em>that morning<em> to tell him that Neil is dead, he can't stay in his room – can't bare to look at the empty bed next to him – and in a daze, he throws on his coat and stumbles outside.

The world is quiet and brilliantly white, blanketed with snow and filled with soft shapes and new wonders.

"It's beautiful," says Todd, awed, as if seeing it all for the first time.

And then Neil's words come back to him, the insistence that _he _is snow, and Todd starts to understand – but it's too much, it's impossible. He feels like he's been kicked in the guts, and his stomach tries to make an urgent escape through his mouth. He falls to the ground, a snowflake lost and alone.


End file.
